


The Point of No Return

by DesireeArmfeldt



Category: Slings & Arrows
Genre: M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic, Unrequited (ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver would be lying if he claimed he didn’t think about that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Point of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "What warm unspoken secrets shall we learn/Beyond the point of no return?" at [ds-snippets.](http://ds-snippets.livejournal.com)

Oliver would be lying if he claimed he didn’t think about that night.  Frequently.  Of course, he also lies frequently, to himself as much as to anyone.  But lying to onesself becomes even more pointless when one is dead.

Anyway.  There was a night.  Well, technically a very early morning after a very late night.  A moonlit moment balanced on the knife-edge of possibility, where Nature held her breath and waited to see which way the dice would fall.

The two of them alone, high on opening night euphoria and half-sloshed on Oliver’s personal brandy.  Geoffrey, bright-eyed and tousle-haired and young—God, so damnably, beautifully young, but old enough to know his own desires.  And Oliver had never, never pushed him; never so much as hinted.  He’d kept his fantasies virtuously to himself, buried himself in the role of mentor, colleague, chum—until that moment, when Geoffrey suddenly turned to him in the middle of a sentence and went silent and just _looked._ At Oliver.

Then he licked his lips and the look became a question.

 _This is it,_ Oliver thought, as his heart raced stiflingly.  _The point of no return._

Two men on a footbridge, staring at each other in the moonlight.

He opened his mouth to speak Geoffrey’s name.  Lifted his hand to reach for him.

And then turned to look down at the river and said something about Kyd, and the swans started quarreling downriver, and the dice came up snake eyes, and that was that.

He has no idea whether Geoffrey remembers that moment, or whether he even registered it at the time.  But he can do what he likes in the privacy of his own, dead mind, and he likes to imagine Geoffrey thinking of it from time to time, with curiosity, if not regret.


End file.
